THE SUPPLIANTS
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
Danaos Herald Pelasgos, king of Argos Chorus of the daughters of Danaos
Scene.—Argos, the entrance of the gates. Statues of Zeus,
Artemis, and other Gods, placed against the walls
Enter Chorus of the Daughters of Danaos, in the dress of Egyptian women, with the boughs of suppliants in their hands, and fillets of white wool twisted round them, chanting as they move in procession to take up their position round the thymele
Zeus, the God of Suppliants, kindly Look on this our band of wanderers, That from banks at mouths of Neilos, Banks of finest sand, departed! Yea, we left the region sacred, Grassy plain on Syria's borders, Not for guilt of blood to exile By our country's edict sentenced, But with free choice, loathing wedlock, Fleeing marriage-rites unholy With the children of Ægyptos. And our father Danaos, ruler, Chief of council, chief of squadrons, Playing moves on fortune's draught-board, Chose what seemed the best of evils, Through the salt sea-waves to hasten, Steering to the land of Argos, Whence our race has risen to greatness; Sprung, so boasts it, from the heifer Whom the stinging gadfly harassed, By the touch of Zeus love-breathing: And to what land more propitious Could we come than this before us, Holding in our hand the branches Suppliant, wreathed with white wool fillets? O State! O land! O water gleaming! Ye the high Gods, ye the awful, In the dark the graves still guarding; Thou too with them, Zeus Preserver, Guardian of the just man's dwelling, Welcome with the breath of pity, Pity as from these shores wafted, Us poor women who are suppliants. And that swarm of men that follow, Haughty offspring of Ægyptos, Ere they set their foot among you On this silt-strown shore,—oh, send them Seaward in their ship swift-rowing; There, with whirlwind tempest-driven, There, with lightning and with thunder, There, with blasts that bring the storm-rain, May they in the fierce sea perish, Ere they, cousin-brides possessing, Rest on marriage-beds reluctant, Which the voice of right denies them!
Strophe I
And now I call on him, the Zeus-sprung steer, Our true protector, far beyond the sea, Child of the heifer-foundress of our line, Who cropped the flowery mead, Born of the breath, and named from touch of Zeus. *And lo! the destined time *Wrought fully with the name, And she brought forth the “Touch-born,” Epaphos.
Antistrophe I
And now invoking him in grassy fields, Where erst his mother strayed, to dwellers here Telling the tale of all her woes of old, I surest pledge shall give; And others, strange beyond all fancy's dream, Shall yet perchance be found; And in due course of time Shall men know clearly all our history.
Strophe II
And if some augur of the land be near, Hearing our piteous cry, Sure he will deem he hears The voice of Tereus' bride, Piteous and sad of soul, The nightingale sore harassed by the kite.
Antistrophe II
*For she, driven back from wonted haunts and streams, Mourns with a strange new plaint The home that she has lost, And wails her son's sad doom, How he at her hand died, Meeting with evil wrath unmotherly;
Strophe III
E'en so do I, to wailing all o'er-given, In plaintive music of Ionian mood, *Vex the soft cheek on Neilos' banks that bloomed, And heart that bursts in tears, And pluck the flowers of lamentations loud, Not without fear of friends, *Lest none should care to help This flight of mine from that mist-shrouded shore.
Antistrophe III
But, O ye Gods ancestral! hear my prayer, Look well upon the justice of our cause, Nor grant to youth to gain its full desire Against the laws of right, But with prompt hate of lust, our marriage bless. *Even for those who come As fugitives in war The altar serves as shield that Gods regard.
Strophe IV
May God good issue give! And yet the will of Zeus is hard to scan: Through all it brightly gleams, E'en though in darkness and the gloom of chance For us poor mortals wrapt.
Antistrophe IV
Safe, by no fall tripped up, The full-wrought deed decreed by brow of Zeus; For dark with shadows stretch The pathways of the counsels of his heart, And difficult to see.
Strophe V
And from high-towering hopes He hurleth down To utter doom the heir of mortal birth; Yet sets He in array No forces violent; All that Gods work is effortless and calm: Seated on holiest throne, Thence, though we know not how, He works His perfect will.
Antistrophe V
Ah, let him look on frail man's wanton pride, With which the old stock burgeons out anew, By love for me constrained, In counsels ill and rash, And in its frenzied, passionate resolve Finds goad it cannot shun; But in deceivèd hopes, Shall know, too late, its woe.
Strophe VI
Such bitter griefs, lamenting, I recount, With cries shrill, tearful, deep, (Ah woe! ah woe!) That strike the ear with mourner's woe-fraught cry. Though yet alive, I wail mine obsequies; Thee, Apian sea-girt bluff, I greet (our alien speech Thou knowest well, O land,) And ofttimes fall, with rendings passionate, On robe of linen and Sidonian veil.
Antistrophe VI
But to the Gods, for all things prospering well, When death is kept aloof, Gifts votive come of right. Ah woe! Ah woe! Oh, troubles dark, and hard to understand! Ah, whither will these waters carry me? Thee, Apian sea-girt bluff, I greet (our alien speech Thou knowest well, O land,) And ofttimes fall, with rendings passionate, On robe of linen and Sidonian veil.
Strophe VII
The oar indeed and dwelling, timber-wrought, With sails of canvas, 'gainst the salt sea proof Brought me with favouring gales, By stormy wind unvexed; Nor have I cause for murmur. Issues good May He, the all-seeing Father, grant, that I, Great seed of Mother dread, In time may 'scape, still maiden undefiled, My suitor's marriage-bed.
Antistrophe VII
And with a will that meets my will may She, The unstained child of Zeus, on me look down, *Our Artemis, who guards The consecrated walls; And with all strength, though hunted down, uncaught, May She, the Virgin, me a virgin free, Great seed of Mother dread, That I may 'scape, still maiden undefiled, My suitor's marriage-bed.
Strophe VIII
But if this may not be, We, of swarth sun-burnt race, Will with our suppliant branches go to him, Zeus, sovereign of the dead, The Lord that welcomes all that come to him, Dying by twisted noose If we the grace of Gods Olympian miss. By thine ire, Zeus, 'gainst Io virulent, The Gods' wrath seeks us out, And I know well the woe Comes from thy queen who reigns in heaven victorious; For after stormy wind The tempest needs must rage.
Antistrophe VIII
And then shall Zeus to words Unseemly be exposed, Having the heifer's offspring put to shame, Whom he himself begat, And now his face averting from our prayers: Ah, may he hear on high, Yea, pitying look and hear propitiously! By thine ire, Zeus, 'gainst Io virulent, The Gods' wrath seeks us out, And I know well the woe Comes from thy queen, who reigns in heaven victorious; For after stormy wind The tempest needs must rage. Danaos. My children, we need wisdom; lo! ye came With me, your father wise and old and true, As guardian of your voyage. Now ashore, With forethought true I bid you keep my words, As in a tablet-book recording them: I see a dust, an army's voiceless herald, Nor are the axles silent as they turn; And I descry a host that bear the shield, And those that hurl the javelin, marching on With horses and with curvèd battle-cars. Perchance they are the princes of this land, Come on the watch, as having news of us; But whether one in kindly mood, or hot With anger fierce, leads on this great array, It is, my children, best on all accounts To take your stand hard by this hill of Gods Who rule o'er conflicts. Better far than towers Are altars, yea, a shield impenetrable. But with all speed approach the shrine of Zeus, The God of mercy, in your left hand holding The suppliants' boughs wool-wreathed, in solemn guise, And greet our hosts as it is meet for us, Coming as strangers, with all duteous words Kindly and holy, telling them your tale Of this your flight, unstained by guilt of blood; And with your speech, let mood not overbold, Nor vain nor wanton, shine from modest brow And calm, clear eye. And be not prompt to speak, Nor full of words; the race that dwelleth here Of this is very jealous: and be mindful Much to concede; a fugitive thou art, A stranger and in want, and 'tis not meet That those in low estate high words should speak.
Chor. My father, to the prudent prudently Thou speakest, and my task shall be to keep Thy goodly precepts. Zeus, our sire, look on us!
Dan. Yea, may He look with favourable eye!
Chor. I fain would take my seat not far from thee. [Chorus moves to the altar not far from Danaos Dan. Delay not then; success go with your plan.
Chor. Zeus, pity us with sorrow all but crushed!
Dan. If He be willing, all shall turn out well.
Chor. . . . . .
Dan. Invoke ye now the mighty bird of Zeus.
Chor. We call the sun's bright rays to succour us.
Dan. Apollo too, the holy, in that He, A God, has tasted exile from high heaven.
Chor. Knowing that fate, He well may feel for men.
Dan. So may He feel, and look on us benignly!
Chor. Whom of the Gods shall I besides invoke?
Dan. I see this trident here, a God's great symbol.
Chor. Well hath He brought us, well may He receive!
Dan. Here too is Hermes, as the Hellenes know him.
Chor. To us, as free, let Him good herald prove.
Dan. Yea, and the common shrine of all these Gods Adore ye, and in holy precincts sit, Like swarms of doves in fear of kites your kinsmen, Foes of our blood, polluters of our race. How can bird prey on bird and yet be pure? And how can he be pure who seeks in marriage Unwilling bride from father too unwilling? Nay, not in Hades' self, shall he, vain fool, Though dead, 'scape sentence, doing deeds like this; For there, as men relate, a second Zeus Judges men's evil deeds, and to the dead Assigns their last great penalties. Look up, And take your station here, that this your cause May win its way to a victorious end.
Enter the King on his chariot, followed by Attendants
King. Whence comes this crowd, this non-Hellenic band, In robes and raiment of barbaric fashion So gorgeously attired, whom now we speak to? This woman's dress is not of Argive mode, Nor from the climes of Hellas. How ye dared, Without a herald even or protector, Yea, and devoid of guides too, to come hither Thus boldly, is to me most wonderful. And yet these boughs, as is the suppliant's wont, Are set by you before the Gods of conflicts: By this alone will Hellas guess aright. Much more indeed we might have else conjectured, Were there no voice to tell me on the spot.
Chor. Not false this speech of thine about our garb; But shall I greet thee as a citizen, Or bearing Hermes' rod, or city ruling?
King. Nay, for that matter, answer thou and speak Without alarm. Palæchthon's son am I, Earth-born, the king of this Pelasgic land; And named from me, their king, as well might be, The race Pelasgic reaps our country's fruits; *And all the land through which the Strymon pours Its pure, clear waters to the West I rule; And as the limits of my realm I mark The land of the Perrhæbi, and the climes Near the Pæonians, on the farther side Of Pindos, and the Dodonæan heights; And the sea's waters form its bounds. O'er all Within these coasts I govern; and this plain, The Apian land, itself has gained its name Long since from one who as a healer lived; For Apis, coming from Naupactian land That lies beyond the straits, Apollo's son, Prophet and healer, frees this land of ours From man-destroying monsters, which the soil, Polluted with the guilt of blood of old, By anger of the Gods, brought forth,—fierce plagues, The dragon-brood's dread, unblest company; And Apis, having for this Argive land Duly wrought out his saving surgery, Gained his reward, remembered in our prayers; And thou, this witness having at my hands, May'st tell thy race at once, and further speak; Yet lengthened speech our city loveth not.
Chor. Full short and clear our tale. We boast that we Are Argives in descent, the children true Of the fair, fruitful heifer. And all this Will I by what I speak show firm and true.
King. Nay, strangers, what ye tell is past belief For me to hear, that ye from Argos spring; For ye to Libyan women are most like, And nowise to our native maidens here. Such race might Neilos breed, and Kyprian mould, Like yours, is stamped by skilled artificers On women's features; and I hear that those Of India travel upon camels borne, Swift as the horse, yet trained as sumpter-mules, E'en those who as the Æthiops' neighbours dwell. And had ye borne the bow, I should have guessed, Undoubting, ye were of th' Amâzon's tribe, Man-hating, flesh-devouring. Taught by you, I might the better know how this can be, That your descent and birth from Argos come.
Chor. They tell of one who bore the temple-keys Of Hera, Io, in this Argive land.
King. So was't indeed, and wide the fame prevails: And was it said that Zeus a mortal loved?
Chor. And that embrace was not from Hera hid.
King. What end had then these strifes of sovereign Ones?
Chor. The Argive goddess made the maid a heifer.
King. Did Zeus that fair-horned heifer still approach?
Chor. So say they, fashioned like a wooing steer.
King. How acted then the mighty spouse of Zeus?
Chor. She o'er the heifer set a guard all-seeing.
King. What herdsman strange, all-seeing, speak'st thou of?
Chor. Argos, the earth-born, him whom Hermes slew.
King. What else then wrought she on the ill-starred heifer?
Chor. She sent a stinging gadfly to torment her. [Those who near Neilos dwell an æstros call it.]
King. Did she then drive her from her country far?
Chor. All that thou say'st agrees well with our tale.
King. And did she to Canôbos go, and Memphis?
Chor. Zeus with his touch, an offspring then begets.
King. What Zeus-born calf that heifer claims as mother?
Chor. *He from that touch which freed named Epaphos.
King. [What offspring then did Epaphos beget?]
Chor. Libya, that gains her fame from greatest land.
King. What other offspring, born of her, dost tell of?
Chor. Sire of my sire here, Belos, with two sons.
King. Tell me then now the name of yonder sage.
Chor. Danaos, whose brother boasts of fifty sons.
King. Tell me his name, too, with ungrudging speech.
Chor. Ægyptos: knowing now our ancient stock, Take heed thou bid thine Argive suppliants rise.
King. Ye seem, indeed, to make your ancient claim To this our country good: but how came ye To leave your father's house? What chance constrained you?
Chor. O king of the Pelasgi, manifold Are ills of mortals, and thou could'st not find The self-same form of evil anywhere. Who would have said that this unlooked-for flight Would bring to Argos race once native here, Driving them forth in hate of wedlock's couch?
King. What seek'st thou then of these the Gods of conflicts, Holding your wool-wreathed branches newly-plucked?
Chor. That I serve not Ægyptos' sons as slave.
King. Speak'st thou of some old feud, or breach of right?
Chor. Nay, who'd find fault with master that one loved?
King. Yet thus it is that mortals grow in strength.
Chor. True; when men fail, 'tis easy to desert them.
King. How then to you may I act reverently?
Chor. Yield us not up unto Ægyptos' sons.
King. Hard boon thou ask'st, to wage so strange a war.
Chor. Nay, Justice champions those who fight with her.
King. Yes, if her hand was in it from the first.
Chor. Yet reverence thou the state-ship's stern thus wreathed.
King. I tremble as I see these seats thus shadowed.
Strophe I
Chor. Dread is the wrath of Zeus, the God of suppliants: Son of Palæchthon, hear; Hear, O Pelasgic king, with kindly heart. Behold me suppliant, exile, wanderer, *Like heifer chased by wolves Upon the lofty crags, Where, trusting in her strength, She lifteth up her voice And to the shepherd tells her tale of grief.
King. I see, o'ershadowed with the new-plucked boughs, *Bent low, a band these Gods of conflict own; And may our dealings with these home-sprung strangers Be without peril, nor let strife arise To this our country for unlooked-for chance And unprovided! This our State wants not.
Antistrophe I
Chor. Yea, may that Law that guards the suppliant's right Free this our flight from harm, Law, sprung from Zeus, supreme Apportioner, But thou, [to the King,] though old, from me, though younger, learn: If thou a suppliant pity Thou ne'er shall penury know, So long as Gods receive Within their sacred shrines Gifts at the hands of worshipper unstained.
King. It is not at my hearth ye suppliant sit; But if the State be as a whole defiled, Be it the people's task to work the cure. I cannot pledge my promise to you first Ere I have counselled with my citizens.
Strophe II
Chor. Thou art the State—yea, thou the commonwealth, Chief lord whom none may judge; 'Tis thine to rule the country's altar-hearth, With the sole vote of thy prevailing nod; And thou on throne of state, Sole-sceptred in thy sway, Bringest each matter to its destined end; Shun thou the curse of guilt.
King. Upon my foes rest that dread curse of guilt! Yet without harm I cannot succour you, Nor gives it pleasure to reject your prayers. In a sore strait am I; fear fills my soul To take the chance, to do or not to do.
Antistrophe II
Chor. Look thou on Him who looks on all from heaven, Guardian of suffering men Who, worn with toil, unto their neighbours come As suppliants, and receive not justice due: For these the wrath of Zeus, Zeus, the true suppliant's God, Abides, by wail of sufferer unappeased.
King. Yet if Ægyptos' sons have claim on thee By their State's law, asserting that they come As next of kin, who dare oppose their right? Thou must needs plead that by thy laws at home They over thee have no authority.
Strophe III
Chor. Ah! may I ne'er be captive to the might Of males! Where'er the stars Are seen in heaven, I track my way in flight, As refuge from a marriage that I hate. But thou, make Right thy friend, And honour what the Gods count pure and true.
King. Hard is the judgment: choose not me as judge. But, as I said before, I may not act Without the people, sovereign though I be, Lest the crowd say, should aught fall out amiss, “In honouring strangers, thou the State did'st ruin.”
Antistrophe III
Chor. Zeus, the great God of kindred, in these things Watches o'er both of us, Holding an equal scale, and fitly giving To the base evil, to the righteous blessing. Why, when these things are set In even balance, fear'st thou to do right?
King. Deep thought we need that brings deliverance, That, like a diver, mine eye too may plunge Clear-seeing to the depths, not wine-bedrenched, That these things may be harmless to the State, And to ourselves may issue favourably: That neither may the strife make you its prey, Nor that we give you up, who thus are set Near holy seat of Gods, and so bring in To dwell with us the Avenger terrible, God that destroyeth, who not e'en in Hades Gives freedom to the dead. Say, think ye not That there is need of counsel strong to save?
Strophe I
Chor. Take heed to it, and be Friend to the stranger wholly faithful found; Desert not thou the poor, Driven from afar by godless violence.
Antistrophe I
See me not dragged away, O thou that rul'st the land! from seat of Gods: Know thou men's wanton pride, And guard thyself against the wrath of Zeus.
Strophe II
Endure not thou to see thy suppliant, Despite of law, torn off, As horses by their frontlets, from the forms Of sculptured deities, Nor yet the outrage of their wanton hands, Seizing these broidered robes.
Antistrophe II
For know thou well, whichever course thou take, Thy sons and all thy house *Must pay in war the debt that Justice claims, Proportionate in kind. Lay well to heart these edicts, wise and true, Given by great Zeus himself.
King. Well then have I thought o'er it. To this point Our ship's course drives. Fierce war we needs must risk Either with these (pointing to the Gods) or those. Set fast and firm Is this as is the ship tight wedged in stocks; And without trouble there's no issue out. For wealth indeed, were our homes spoiled of that, There might come other, thanks to Zeus the Giver, More than the loss, and filling up the freight; And if the tongue should aim its adverse darts, Baleful and over-stimulant of wrath, There might be words those words to heal and soothe. But how to blot the guilt of kindred blood, This needs a great atonement—many victims Falling to many Gods—to heal the woe. *I take my part, and turn aside from strife; And I far rather would be ignorant Than wise, forecasting evil. May the end, Against my judgment, show itself as good!
Chor. Hear, then, the last of all our pleas for pity.
King. I hear; speak on. It shall not 'scape my heed.
Chor. Girdles I have, and zones that bind my robes.
King. Such things are fitting for a woman's state.
Chor. With these then, know, as good and rare device....
King. Nay, speak. What word is this thou'lt utter now?
Chor. Unless thou giv'st our band thy plighted word....
King. What wilt thou do with this device of girdles?
Chor. With tablets new these sculptures we'll adorn.
King. Thou speak'st a riddle. Make thy meaning plain.
Chor. Upon these Gods we'll hang ourselves at once.
King. I hear a word which pierces to the heart.
Chor. Thou see'st our meaning. Eyes full clear I've given.
King. Lo then! in many ways sore troubles come. A host of evils rushes like a flood; A sea of woe none traverse, fathomless, This have I entered; haven there is none. For if I fail to do this work for you, Thou tellest of defilement unsurpassed; And if for thee against Ægyptos' sons, Thy kindred, I before my city's walls In conflict stand, how can there fail to be A bitter loss, to stain the earth with blood Of man for woman's sake? And yet I needs Must fear the wrath of Zeus, the suppliant's God; That dread is mightiest with the sons of men. Thou, then, O aged father of these maidens! Taking forthwith these branches in thine arms, Lay them on other altars of the Gods Our country worships, that the citizens May all behold this token of thy coming, And about me let no rash speech be dropped; For 'tis a people prompt to blame their rulers. And then perchance some one beholding them, And pitying, may wax wrathful 'gainst the outrage Of that male troop, and with more kindly will The people look on you; for evermore Men all wish well unto the weaker side.
Dan. This boon is counted by us of great price, To find a patron proved so merciful. And thou, send with us guides to lead us on, And tell us how before their shrines to find The altars of the Gods that guard the State, *And holy places columned round about; And safety for us, as the town we traverse. Not of like fashion is our features' stamp; For Neilos rears not race like Inachos. Take heed lest rashness lead to bloodshed here; Ere now, unknowing, men have slain their friends.
King (to Attendants). Go then, my men; full well the stranger speaks; And lead him where the city's altars stand, The seats of Gods; and see ye talk not much To passers-by as ye this traveller lead, A suppliant at the altar-hearth of Gods. [Exeunt Danaos and Attendants Chor. Thou speak'st to him; and may he go as bidden! But what shall I do? What hope giv'st thou me?
King. Leave here those boughs, the token of your grief.
Chor. Lo! here I leave them at thy beck and word.
King. Now turn thy steps towards this open lawn.
Chor. What shelter gives a lawn unconsecrate?
King. We will not yield thee up to birds of prey.
Chor. Nay, but to foes far worse than fiercest dragons.
King. Good words should come from those who good have heard.
Chor. No wonder they wax hot whom fear enthrals.
King. But dread is still for rulers all unmeet.
Chor. Do thou then cheer our soul by words and deeds.
King. Nay, no long time thy sire will leave thee lorn; And I, all people of the land convening, Will the great mass persuade to kindly words; And I will teach thy father what to say. Wherefore remain and ask our country's Gods, With suppliant prayers, to grant thy soul's desire, And I will go in furtherance of thy wish: Sweet Suasion follow us, and Fortune good! [Exit
Strophe I
Chor. O King of kings! and blest Above all blessed ones, And Power most mighty of the mightiest! O Zeus, of high estate! Hear thou and grant our prayer! Drive thou far off the wantonness of men, The pride thou hatest sore, And in the pool of darkling purple hue Plunge thou the woe that comes in swarthy barque.
Antistrophe I
Look on the women's cause; Recall the ancient tale, Of one whom Thou did'st love in time of old, The mother of our race: Remember it, O Thou Who did'st on Io lay thy mystic touch. We boast that we are come Of consecrated land the habitants, And from this land by lineage high descended.
Strophe II
Now to the ancient track, Our mother's, I have passed, The flowery meadow-land where she was watched,— The pastures of the herd, Whence Io, by the stinging gadfly driven, Flees, of her sense bereft, Passing through many tribes of mortal men; And then by Fate's decree Crossing the billowy straits, On either side she leaves a continent.
Antistrophe II
Now through the Asian land She hastens o'er and o'er, Right through the Phrygian fields where feed the flocks; And passes Teuthras' fort, Owned by the Mysians, and the Lydian plains; And o'er Kilikian hills, And those of far Pamphylia rushing on, By ever-flowing streams, On to the deep, rich lands, And Aphrodite's home in wheat o'erflowing.
Strophe III
And so she cometh, as that herdsman winged Pierces with sharpest sting, To holy plain all forms of life sustaining, Fields that are fed from snows, Which Typhon's monstrous strength has traversed, And unto Neilos' streams, By sickly taint untouched, Still maddened with her toil of ignominy, By torturing stings driven on, great Hera's frenzied slave.
Antistrophe III
And those who then the lands inhabited, Quivered with pallid fear, That filled their soul at that unwonted marvel, Seeing that monstrous shape, The human joined with brute, Half heifer, and half form of woman fair: And sore amazed were they. Who was it then that soothed Poor Io, wandering in her sore affright, Driven on, and ever on, by gadfly's maddening sting?
Strophe IV
Zeus, Lord of endless time [Was seen All-working then;] He, even He, for by his sovereign might That works no ill, was she from evil freed; And by his breath divine She findeth rest, and weeps in floods of tears Her sorrowing shame away; And with new burden big, Not falsely 'Zeus-born' named, She bare a son that grew in faultless growth,
Antistrophe IV
Prosperous through long, long years; And so the whole land shouts with one accord, “Lo, a race sprung from him, the Lord of life, In very deed, Zeus-born! Who else had checked the plagues that Hera sent?” This is the work of Zeus: And speaking of our race That sprang from Epaphos As such, thou would'st not fail to hit the mark.
Strophe V
Which of the Gods could I with right invoke As doing juster deeds? He is our Father, author of our life, The King whose right hand worketh all his will, Our line's great author, in his counsels deep Recording things of old, Directing all his plans, the great work-master, Zeus.
Antistrophe V
For not as subject hastening at the beck Of strength above his own, Reigns He subordinate to mightier powers; Nor does He pay his homage from below, While One sits throned in majesty above; Act is for him as speech, To hasten what his teeming mind resolves.
Re-enter Danaos
Dan. Be of good cheer, my children. All goes well With those who dwell here, and the people's voice Hath passed decrees full, firm, irrevocable.
Chor. Hail, aged sire, that tell'st me right good news! But say with what intent the vote hath passed, And on which side the people's hands prevail.
Dan. The Argives have decreed without division, So that my aged mind grew young again; For in full congress, with their right hands raised Rustled the air as they decreed their vote That we should sojourn in their land as free, Free from arrest, and with asylum rights; And that no native here nor foreigner Should lead us off; and, should he venture force, That every citizen who gave not help Dishonoured should be driven to exile forth. Such counsel giving, the Pelasgian King Gained their consent, proclaiming that great wrath Of Zeus the God of suppliants ne'er would let The city wax in fatness,—warning them That double guilt upon the State would come, Touching at once both guests and citizens, The food and sustenance of sore disease That none could heal. And then the Argive host, Hearing these things, decreed by show of hands, Not waiting for the herald's proclamation, So it should be. They heard, indeed, the crowd Of those Pelasgi, all the winning speech, The well-turned phrases cunning to persuade; But it was Zeus that brought the end to pass.
Chor. Come then, come, let us speak for Argives Prayers that are good for good deeds done; Zeus, who o'er all strangers watches, May He regard with his praise and favour The praise that comes from the lips of strangers, *And guide in all to a faultless issue.
Strophe I
Half-Chor. A. Now, now, at last, ye Gods of Zeus begotten, Hear, as I pour my prayers upon their race, That ne'er may this Pelasgic city raise From out its flames the joyless cry of War, War, that in other fields Reapeth his human crop: For they have mercy shown, And passed their kind decree, Pitying this piteous flock, the suppliants of great Zeus.
Antistrophe I
They did not take their stand with men 'gainst women Casting dishonour on their plea for help, *But looked to Him who sees and works from heaven, *Full hard to war with. Yea, what house could bear To see Him on its roof Casting pollution there? Sore vexing there he sits. Yes, they their kin revere, Suppliants of holiest Zeus; Therefore with altars pure shall they the Gods delight.
Strophe II
Therefore from faces by our boughs o'ershadowed Let prayers ascend in emulous eagerness: Ne'er may dark pestilence This State of men bereave; May no fierce party strife Pollute these plains with native carcases; And may the bloom of youth Be with them still uncropt; And ne'er may Aphrodite's paramour, Ares the scourge of men, Mow down their blossoms fair!
Antistrophe II
And let the altars tended by the old *Blaze with the gifts of men with hoary hairs; So may the State live on In full prosperity! Let them great Zeus adore, The strangers' God, the one Supreme on high, By venerable law Ordering the course of fate. And next we pray that ever more and more Earth may her tribute bear, And Artemis as Hecate preside O'er woman's travail-pangs.
Strophe III
Let no destroying strife come on, invading This city to lay waste, Setting in fierce array War, with its fruit of tears, Lyreless and danceless all, And cry of people's wrath; And may the swarm of plagues, Loathly and foul to see, Abide far off from these our citizens, And that Lykeian king, may He be found Benignant to our youth!
Antistrophe III
And Zeus, may He, by his supreme decree, Make the earth yield her fruits Through all the seasons round, And grant a plenteous brood Of herds that roam the fields! May Heaven all good gifts pour, And may the voice of song Ascend o'er altar shrines, Unmarred by sounds of ill! And let the voice that loves with lyre to blend Go forth from lips of blameless holiness, In accents of great joy!
Strophe IV
*And may the rule in which the people share Keep the State's functions as in perfect peace, E'en that which sways the crowd, *Which sways the commonwealth, By counsels wise and good; And to the strangers and the sojourners May they grant rights that rest on compacts sure, Ere War is roused to arms, So that no trouble come!
Antistrophe IV
And the great Gods who o'er this country watch, May they adore them in the land They guard, With rites of sacrifice, And troops with laurel boughs, As did our sires of old! For thus to honour those who gave us life, This stands as one of three great laws on high, Written as fixed and firm, The laws of Right revered.
Dan. I praise these seemly prayers, dear children mine. But fear ye not, if I your father speak Words that are new, and all unlooked-for by you; For from this station to the suppliant given I see the ship; too clear to be mistaken The swelling sails, the bulwark's coverings, And prow with eyes that scan the onward way, But too obedient to the steerman's helm, Being, as it is, unfriendly. And the men Who sail in her with swarthy limbs are seen, In raiment white conspicuous. And I see Full clear the other ships that come to help; And this as leader, putting in to shore, Furling its sails, is rowed with equal stroke. 'Tis yours, with mood of calm and steadfast soul, To face the fact, and not to slight the Gods. And I will come with friends and advocates; For herald, it may be, or embassy, May come, and wish to seize and bear you off, Grasping their prey. But nought of this shall be; Fear ye not them. It were well done, however, If we should linger in our help, this succour In no wise to forget. Take courage then; In their own time and at the appointed day, Whoever slights the Gods shall pay for it.
Strophe I
Chor. I fear, my father, since the swift-winged ships Are come, and very short the time that's left. A shuddering anguish makes me sore afraid, Lest small the profit of my wandering flight. I faint, my sire, for fear.
Dan. My children, since the Argives' vote is passed, Take courage: they will fight for thee, I know.
Antistrophe I
Chor. Hateful and wanton are Ægyptos' sons, Insatiable of conflict, and I speak To one who knows them. They in timbered ships, Dark-eyed, have sailed in wrath that hits its mark, With great and swarthy host.
Dan. Yet many they shall find whose arms are tanned In the full scorching of the noontide heat.
Strophe II
Chor. Leave me not here alone, I pray thee, father! Alone, a woman is as nought, and war Is not for her. Of over-subtle mind, And subtle counsel in their souls impure, Like ravens, e'en for altars caring not,— Such, such in soul are they.
Dan. That would work well indeed for us, my children, Should they be foes to Gods as unto thee.
Antistrophe II
Chor. No reverence for these tridents or the shrines Of Gods, my father, will restrain their hands: Full stout of heart, of godless mood unblest, Fed to the full, and petulant as dogs, And for the voice of high Gods caring not,— Such, such in soul are they.
Dan. Nay, the tale runs that wolves prevail o'er dogs; And byblos fruit excels not ear of corn.
Chor. But since their minds are as the minds of brutes, Restless and vain, we must beware of force.
Dan. Not rapid is the getting under weigh Of naval squadron, nor their anchoring, Nor the safe putting into shore with cables. Nor have the shepherds of swift ships quick trust In anchor-fastenings, most of all, as now, When coming to a country havenless; And when the sun has yielded to the night, That night brings travail to a pilot wise, [Though it be calm and all the waves sleep still;] So neither can this army disembark Before the ship is safe in anchorage. And thou beware lest in thy panic fear Thou slight the Gods whom thou hast called to help. The city will not blame your messenger, Old though he be, being young in clear-voiced thought. Exit
Strophe I
Chor. Ah, me! thou land of jutting promontory Which justly all revere, What lies before us? Where in Apian land Shall we a refuge find, If still there be dark hiding anywhere? Ah! that I were as smoke That riseth full and black Nigh to the clouds of Zeus, Or soaring up on high invisible, Like dust that vanishes, Pass out of being with no help from wings!
Antistrophe I
*E'en so the ill admits not now of flight; My heart in dark gloom throbs; My father's work as watcher brings me low; I faint for very fear, And I would fain find noose that bringeth death, In twisted cordage hung, Before the man I loathe Draws near this flesh of mine: Sooner than that may Hades rule o'er me Sleeping the sleep of death!
Strophe II
Ah, might I find a place in yon high vault, Where the rain-clouds are passing into snow, Or lonely precipice Whose summit none can see, Rock where the vulture haunts, Witness for me of my abysmal fall, Before the marriage that will pierce my heart Becomes my dreaded doom!
Antistrophe II
I shrink not from the thought of being the prey Of dogs and birds that haunt the country round; For death shall make me free From ills all lamentable: Yea, let death rather come Than the worse doom of hated marriage-bed! What other refuge now remains for me That marriage to avert?
Strophe III
Yea, to the Gods raise thou Cloud-piercing, wailing cry Of songs and litanies, Prevailing, working freedom out for me: And thou, O Father, look, Look down upon the strife, With glance of wrath against our enemies From eyes that see the right; With pity look on us thy suppliants, O Lord of Earth, O Zeus omnipotent!
Antistrophe III
For lo! Ægyptos' house, In pride intolerable, O'er-masculine in mood, Pursuing me in many a winding course, Poor wandering fugitive, With loud and wild desires, Seek in their frenzied violence to seize: But thine is evermore The force that turns the balance of the scale: What comes to mortal men apart from Thee?
Ah! ah! ah! ah! *Here on the land behold the ravisher Who comes on us by sea! *Ah, may'st thou perish, ravisher, ere thou Hast stopped or landed here! *I utter cry of wailing loud and long, *I see them work the prelude of their crimes, Their crimes of violence. Ah! ah! Ah me! Haste in your flight for help! The mighty ones are waxing fat and proud, By sea and land alike intolerable. Be thou, O King, our bulwark and defence!
Enter Herald of the sons of Ægyptos, advancing to the daughters of Danaos
Her. Haste, haste with all your speed unto the barque.
Chor. Tearing of hair, yea, tearing now will come, And print of nails in flesh, And smiting off of heads, With murderous stream of blood.
Her. Haste, haste ye, to that barque that yonder lies, Ye wretches, curse on you.
Strophe I
Chor. Would thou had'st met thy death Where the salt waves wildly surge, Thou with thy lordly pride, In nail-compacted ship: *Lo! they will smite thee, weltering in thy blood, *And drive thee to thy barque.
Her. I bid you cease perforce, the cravings wild Of mind to madness given. Ho there! what ho! I say; Give up those seats, and hasten to the ship: I reverence not what this State honoureth.
Antistrophe I
Chor. Ah, I may ne'er again Behold the stream where graze the goodly kine, Nourished and fed by which The blood of cattle waxes strong and full! *As with a native's right, *And one of old descent, I keep, old man, my seat, my seat, I say.
Her. Nay, in a ship, a ship them shalt soon go, With or without thy will, By force, I say, by force: Come, come, provoke not evils terrible, Falling by these my hands.
Strophe II
Chor. Ah me! ah me! Would thou may'st perish with no hand to help, Crossing the sea's wide plain, In wanderings far and wide, Where Sarpedonian sand-bank spreads its length, Driven by the sweeping blasts!
Her. Sob thou, and howl, and call upon the Gods: Thou shalt not 'scape that barque from Ægypt come, Though thou should'st pour a bitterer strain of grief.
Antistrophe II
Chor. Woe! woe! Ah woe! ah woe, For this foul wrong! Thou utterest fearful things; *Thou art too bold and insolent of speech. *May mighty Nile that reared thee turn away Thy wanton pride and lust That we behold it not!
Her. I bid you go to yon ship double-prowed, With all your speed. Let no one lag behind; But little shall my grasp your ringlets spare. [Seizes on the leader of the Suppliants
Strophe III
Chor. Ah me! my father, ah! The help of holiest statues turns to woe; He leads me to the sea, With motion spider-like, Or like a dream, a dark and dismal dream, Ah woe! ah woe! ah woe! O mother Earth! O Earth! O mother mine! Avert that cry of fear, O Zeus, thou king! O son of mother Earth!
Her. Nay, I fear not the Gods they worship here; They did not rear nor lead me up to age.
Antistrophe III
Chor. Near me he rages now, · · · · · That biped snake, And like a viper bites me by the foot. Oh, woe is me! woe! woe! O mother Earth! O Earth! O mother mine! Avert that cry of fear, O Zeus, thou king! O son of mother Earth!
Her. If some one yield not, and to yon ship go, The hand that tears her tunic will not pity.
Strophe IV
Chor. Ho! rulers of the State! Ye princes! I am seized.
Her. It seems, since ye are slow to hear my words, That I shall have to drag you by the hair.
Antistrophe IV
Chor. We are undone, undone! We suffer, prince, unlooked-for outrages,
Her. Full many princes, heirs of great Ægyptos, Ye soon shall see. Take courage; ye shall have No cause to speak of anarchy as there.
Enter King followed by his Bodyguard
King. Ho there! What dost thou? and with what intent Dost thou so outrage this Pelasgic land? Dost think thou comest to a town of women? Too haughty thou, a stranger 'gainst Hellenes, And, sinning much, hast nothing done aright.
Her. What sin against the right have I then done?
King. First, thou know'st not how stranger-guest should act.
Her. How so? When I, but finding what I lost....
King. Whom among us dost thou then patrons call?
Her. Hermes the Searcher, chiefest patron mine.
King. Thou, Gods invoking, honourest not the Gods.
Her. The Gods of Neilos are the Gods I worship.
King. Ours then are nought, if I thy meaning catch.
Her. These girls I'll lead, if no one rescues them.
King. Lay hand on them, and soon thou'lt pay the cost.
Her. I hear a word in no wise hospitable.
King. Who rob the Gods I welcome not as guests.
Her. I then will tell Ægyptos' children this.
King. This threat is all unheeded in my mind.
Her. But that I, knowing all, may speak it plain, (For it is meet a herald should declare Each matter clearly,) what am I to say? By whom have I been robbed of that fair band Of women whom I claim as kindred? Nay, But it is Ares that shall try this cause, And not with witnesses, nor money down, Settling the matter, but there first must fall Full many a soldier, and of many a life The rending in convulsive agony.
King. Why should I tell my name? In time thou'lt know it, Thou and thy fellow-travellers. But these maidens, With their consent and free choice of their wills, Thou may'st lead off, if godly speech persuade them: But this decree our city's men have made With one consent, that we to force yield not This company of women. Here the nail Is driven tight home to keep its place full firm; These things are written not on tablets only, [Nor signed and sealed in folds of byblos-rolls;] Thou hear'st them clearly from a tongue that speaks With full, free speech. Away, away, I say: And with all speed from out my presence haste.
Her. It is thy will then a rash war to wage: May strength and victory on our males attend! [Exit King. Nay, thou shall find the dwellers of this land Are also males, and drink not draughts of ale From barley brewed. [To the Suppliants.] But ye, and your attendants, Take courage, go within the fencèd city, Shut in behind its bulwark deep of towers; Yea, many houses to the State belong, And I a palace own not meanly built, If ye prefer to live with many others In ease and plenty: or if that suits better, Ye may inhabit separate abodes. Of these two offers that which pleases best Choose for yourselves, and I as your protector, And all our townsmen, will defend the pledge Which our decree has given you. Why wait'st thou For any better authorised than these?
Chor. For these thy good deeds done may'st thou in good, All good, abound, great chief of the Pelasgi! But kindly send to us Our father Danaos, brave and true of heart, To counsel and direct. His must the first decision be where we Should dwell, and where to find A kindly home; for ready is each one To speak his word of blame 'gainst foreigners. But may all good be ours! And so with fair repute and speech of men, Free from all taint of wrath, So place yourselves, dear handmaids, in the land, As Danaos hath for each of us assigned Dowry of handmaid slaves.
Enter Danaos followed by Soldiers
Dan. My children, to the Argives ye should pray, And sacrifice, and full libations pour, As to Olympian Gods, for they have proved, With one consent, deliverers: and they heard *All that I did towards those cousins there, *Those lovers hot and bitter. And they gave To me as followers these that bear the spear, That I might have my meed of honour due, And might not die by an assassin's hand A death unlooked-for, and thus leave the land A weight of guilt perpetual: and 'tis fit That one who meets such kindness should return, *From his heart's depths, a nobler gratitude; And add ye this to all already written, Your father's many maxims of true wisdom, That we, though strangers, may in time be known; For as to aliens each man's tongue is apt For evil, and spreads slander thoughtlessly; But ye, I charge you, see ye shame me not, With this your life's bloom drawing all men's eyes. The goodly vintage is full hard to watch, All men and beasts make fearful havoc of it, Nay, birds that fly, and creeping things of earth; And Kypris offers fruitage, dropping ripe, *As prey to wandering lust, nor lets it stay; And on the goodly comeliness of maidens Each passer-by, o'ercome with hot desire, Darts forth the amorous arrows of the eye. And therefore let us suffer nought of this, Through which our ship has ploughed such width of sea, Such width of trouble; neither let us work Shame to ourselves, and pleasure to our foes. This twofold choice of home is open to you: [Pelasgos offers his, the city theirs,] To dwell rent-free. Full easy terms are these: Only, I charge you, keep your father's precepts, Prizing as more than life your chastity.
Chor. May the high Gods that on Olympos dwell Bless us in all things; but for this our vintage Be of good cheer, my father; for unless The counsels of the Gods work strange device, I will not leave my spirit's former path.
Strophe I
Semi-Chor. A. Go then and make ye glad the high Gods, blessed for ever, Those who rule our towns, and those who watch over our city, And they who dwell by the stream of Erasinos ancient.
Semi-Chor. B. And ye, companions true, Take up your strain of song. Let praise attend this city of Pelasgos; Let us no more, no more adore the mouths of Neilos With these our hymns of praise;
Antistrophe I
Semi-Chor. A. Nay, but the rivers here that pour calm streams through our country, Parents of many a son, making glad the soil of our meadows, With wide flood rolling on, in full and abounding richness.
Semi-Chor. B. And Artemis the chaste, May she behold our band With pity; ne'er be marriage rites enforcèd On us by Kythereia: those who hate us, Let that ill prize be theirs.
Strophe II
Semi-Chor. A. Not that our kindly strain does slight to Kypris immortal; For she, together with Hera, as nearest to Zeus is mighty, A goddess of subtle thoughts, she is honoured in mysteries solemn.
Semi-Chor. B. Yea, as associates too with that their mother belovèd, Are fair Desire and Suasion, whose pleading no man can gainsay, Yea, to sweet Concord too Aphrodite's power is entrusted, *And the whispering paths of the Loves.
Antistrophe II
Semi-Chor. A. Yet am I sore afraid of the ship that chases us wanderers, Of terrible sorrows, and wars that are bloody and hateful; *Why else have they had fair gale for this their eager pursuing?
Semi-Chor. B. Whate'er is decreed of us, I know that it needs must happen; The mighty purpose of Zeus, unfailing, admits no transgression: *May this fate come to us, as to many women before us, *Fate of marriage and spouse!
Strophe III
Semi-Chor. A. Ah, may great Zeus avert From me all marriage with Ægyptos' sons!
Semi-Chor. B. Nay, all will work for good.
Semi-Chor. A. Thou glozest that which will no glozing bear.
Semi-Chor. B. And thou know'st not what future comes to us.
Antistrophe III
Semi-Chor. A. How can I read the mind Of mightiest Zeus, to sight all fathomless?
Semi-Chor. B. Well-tempered be thy speech!
Semi-Chor. A. What mood of calmnesss wilt thou school me in?
Semi-Chor. B. Be not o'er-rash in what concerns the Gods.
Strophe IV
Semi-Chor. A. Nay, may our great king Zeus avert that marriage With husbands whom we hate, E'en He who, touching her with healing hand, Freed Io from her pain, Putting an end from all her wanderings, Working with kindly force!
Antistrophe IV
Semi-Chor. B. And may He give the victory to women! I choose the better part, Though mixed with ill; and that the trial end Justly, as I have prayed, By means of subtle counsels which God gives To liberate from ills.
ÆSCHYLOS